


Mandus would be an Alpha and you all know it

by interstate_69



Category: Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs
Genre: Alpha Mandus, Daddy Kink, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Penetrative Sex, Omega Machine, Omegaverse, Orgasm Delay/Denial, a/b/o dynamics, i swear they're in-character too, the machine is a slut and mandus is his daddy, this could've happened in the game if frictional weren't cowards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:32:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstate_69/pseuds/interstate_69
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. The Machine is in heat. Deep desperation runs through his circuits. He wants nothing more than a little pleasure from his capable, esteemed creator, but is he willing to give up every shred of dignity for it?Oh, yes. He is.
Relationships: Oswald Mandus/The Machine
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Mandus would be an Alpha and you all know it

When the old telephone by Mandus' bed started to ring, it jolted him awake.

He stumbled out to get it, still dazed from sleep, and picked it up. The voice that greeted him was one of familiarity, although it belonged to none of his living associates, no. It was the infernal Machine beneath his factory, purring instructions into his ear.

"Mandus… how kind of you to pick up. Mechanical problems begin to take their toll here. Ones only you can solve."

The Machine was relentless, taking down his reluctance to go. Coaxing him into crawling in those metal guts once again, though the reason was a cryptic one. Mandus found himself standing before the entrance, soon, having already donned his coat and hat. He braced himself to deal with whatever sort of challenges the Machine saw fit to present him.

He felt the heat haze surround him as soon as he stepped inside. Even the metal seemed to quiver in anticipation. He ran his hand along the steel walls. He knew the Machine could feel it.

The wall-mounted phone rang to his left. He picked up the receiver, standing by to listen to whatever pleading the Machine felt ready to heap upon his tired ears. He heard the intake of breath, and then the familiar old mechanical tones.

“Glad to see you’ve made the familiar descent. Come further down, the machinery beckons.”

Jovial, but strained. Mandus thinks he can hear something deeper in the pauses between the Machine’s words. Something desperately kept hidden.

Moreover, something about being inside of the Machine, now, tugged at him. The heat in the air caused a stir. The breathy undertones of the Machine’s voice over the phone betrayed something unholy. Mandus felt something indeed stirring inside of his guts: the threat of instinct. He was an alpha, and the aggression, domination, and control it warranted him granted his every wish in the realm of business. If only it didn’t come with such fits of instinct. The ruts drove him to madness. When he was in rut, he couldn’t think. He wanted only to take hold of any near, willing omega and force his cock down their expectant throat. He had to control. He _had_ to dominate.

And now he felt the rut slowly coming over him. The Machine, the Machine around him -- it was _his_ doing. Mandus hadn’t intended the Machine to be an omega when he was constructed, but the soul inside of those gears had its own vices free of the creator’s will. And this vice so terribly matched his own that Mandus often felt on the edge of using his own creation for his desires. It felt downright incestuous, so he dismissed the thought every time it came. Every time but now, now that the Machine called him downwards of its own accord.

“What is it you want this time?” Mandus called into the darkness, feigning ignorance. Nonchalance.

“I want for nothing. Simply draw deeper into the ironworks and make your adjustments. Cleanse the gears of their habitual filth.” The Machine purred, over the speakers this time.

_Speaking of filth,_ Mandus muses, the light of his lantern drifting over a panel bordered by pipework and steam dials. The panel gleamed with a sticky, wet, fluid substance. Mandus sets the lantern down and reaches for the panel, prying back its shielding to expose the wires beneath. Mandus draws back his hand and finds it wet, covered in substance. _Ah. The Machine’s slick. There’s so much of it…_ It drips off his fingertips, oily and shimmery. Another look at the panel and he notices it soaks the circuits. Slick trails down from the panel to puddle on the floor, glossy and slippery.

“No matter how you hide it, posturing and putting on a front… your mechanical body tells of your desperation.” Mandus raises his voice, making sure the Machine picks up on his gloating tone.

Although level-headed, Mandus can feel his stomach turn over as his instincts threaten to crush his self-control in its grip. He braces himself against the panel with both hands. He wants to tease the Machine, boast his ownership over every piece. He leans forward. Gently, he places his mouth over the delicate brass components and runs his tongue over them to taste the coating of slick. The taste of oil, brass, and heat fills his mouth. He draws in a sharp breath. In it, he can taste the Machine’s desire. His need. He can almost swear he hears the Machine whine softly when he runs his tongue over those metal insides. Almost.

The scent was nearly choking now. The mechanisms seemed to reach out for Mandus and call his name. The voice of the Machine denied all of his weakness, of course, slyly urging Mandus ever forward.

"Is it disconcerting to realize your status as barely above that of the pigs you slaughter, Mandus?" The Machine asked. "Is it maddening to be weak and instinct-driven?"

"At the hands of instinct yourself, you've been lowered to the level you speak of." Mandus hissed in response.

"Human instincts are nothing when compared to the systems that run beneath my walls."

"Then can you truly say you have no desires?"

At this, the Machine lapsed into a tense silence, almost as if he meant to lash out. Almost. Something was stopping him, no doubt.

Mandus could use that. He could leverage it. Taking great care to move slowly and obviously, he began to retrace his steps back towards the entryway, threatening to leave the Machine, and leave him to go mad in his heat. He had nearly made it there before the Machine saw fit to speak up:

"Don't."

Mandus hardly broke stride. "What was that? I don't bargain with machines."

"All right, I said _don't,_ for God's sake!"

"What's this? The almighty mechanical god admits to having needs? Desires?"

"Mandus…"

Mandus reached the end of the catwalk. He stepped up into the corridor.

"Mandus--!" The Machine's voice gained an edge of desperation. "Mandus, please…"

"Say what you want or you're not getting it." Mandus took a peculiar sense of pleasure in playing disciplinarian.

A fit of silence in which the Machine undoubtedly fumed. Wrestled with his own impulses. Tried not to break his own untouchable façade. At last Mandus listened to him draw in a rather shaky breath and, quietly, admit, "I want you to breed me. I want you to take me by the circuits and force me into submission.”

“I’ll go a step further and break you like the omega you are.” Mandus muttered. With that, deep inside of him, something broke. Not only did he merely think about dominating his little Machine, he realized that he _craved_ it.

The Machine once would have resented to making that kind of admittance. Only no matter what his intellectual, rational side told him, he was being eaten alive by lust. And Mandus, oh, only Mandus could save him. Daddy Mandus would come to crawl into his mechanical guts and please him from the inside out. Mandus' hands had crafted the Machine from nothing, and the Machine wanted so badly to feel those hands on him that he was willing to do anything and break any one of his rules to get it. He could only helplessly manipulate the circuitry, but never Mandus' will. And so he was reduced to begging.

Mandus knew exactly how his little living machine worked. He knew the tricks of engineering that would bring him to his knees, and the systems that would make him beg for mercy if they were ever overloaded. The easiest thing to do to control the Machine was to give him fuel to feed on. He would grow dependent, easily, on the one to light his fires. Mandus would shove electricity into his mechanical throat until he was brimming with energized, steam-powered ecstasy. And he would make the Machine beg for every drop of attention and care he would ever get, until his place as omega was so deeply cemented in his mind that he didn't dare question Mandus' will.

The Machine could feel Mandus slip through his corridors and his constructs, and with each step, he felt a little more violated. Laid bare by Mandus' touch. When Mandus grabbed his levers, wet with slick by now, and wrenched them as far as they could go, the Machine couldn't stop those little gasps from escaping his throat. He didn't bother to disguise his breathing, shuddery and heavy and hot. His heat made him abandon his propriety. Furthermore… he knew the sounds of his pleasure would drive Mandus out of control.

They took their toll. Mandus struggled not to reach full rut. He would lose himself to it. Every time he heard the Machine's soft, breathless moans, it tormented him. His mind struggled for control. His body couldn't get enough of the tease. When he descended the stairs to the control room, his hands found their place on the Machine's control panels, wanting to push the Machine even further into delirium. Mandus almost wished the Machine had a human form, easily breakable, to pin down, grapple with, and fuck hard enough to bruise. He thought he might come close to breaking the instruments in frustration, but he steadied himself, just barely.

"Mandus, aren't you enjoying yourself? Tinkering with your little machine?" The mechanized voice was dripping with pleasure now.

"I'm going to enjoy it more when you ruin your circuits with slick." Mandus jammed a lever into maximum, overloading a power capacitor. The reactor sent a power surge through the Machine, scorching over his wires and feeding his hunger for stimulation. A thousand pinpricks of electrifying pleasure shot into every metal fragment. The Machine's gasp of shock dragged out into sustained, shameless moaning. When the jolt ran out, he was left breathless and begging for more.

"Mandus, oh god, do that again."

"Aren't you greedy."

"Mandus, please, I can't do without it."

"Keep begging, then." Mandus leaned back against the control panel, listening as the Machine pleaded and pleaded. It sounded as if he had gotten railed to the point of almost losing his mind and then left teased right afterwards. A couple thousand volts, being shoved through copper wiring hardly built to withstand it, must have been like heroin to a machine in heat, desperate to be fucked. The Machine's begging was irresistible. It came over the speakers so clearly: every whimper, every 'please,' every little mark of desperation in his beautiful mechanical voice. It was the begging that sent Mandus into full rut. He dragged his fingers through the Machine's oily slick and slipped his hand into his pants, starting to stroke his cock. His omega was pleading to get off while he pleasured himself without a second's hesitation; exactly the way it should be.

"Mandus, _please,_ it's unbearable to be in heat--"

"Please, I need it just one more time…"

"I'll do anything for it."

"Don't make me suffer like this, _daddy,_ "

"Daddy, please…"

In his utter desperation, the Machine had taken to calling Mandus his daddy, as if he were a child. It spoke to the dependency, the submission, that existed when you broke the Machine down to his barest instincts. _Daddy Mandus,_ the Machine begged. _Break me, hard._ Mandus couldn't stifle his own moans anymore, now. With one hand, he reached for the voltage dial again. Slamming it into place, he sent another breathtaking shock coursing through the Machine, who broke off mid-sentence, completely unprepared to be slammed like that again. His voice, aching with pleasure, echoed over the line again.

Mandus knew how much the Machine was capable of taking. He knew every little detail of the Machine's heat and how good it felt for him to be treated like a toy. And still he saw fit to speak up only to degrade the Machine, taunting him for being so shameless, teasing him for how dependent he was on Mandus' ability to screw with his controls. After all, should Mandus take his hands off the Machine, the latter would be _helpless_ to take care of his own needs. When the Machine began to whine, begging for satisfaction again, Mandus only snapped, "Be quiet and listen to your _daddy_ pleasure himself."

And god, Mandus was getting close. The scent alone of his omega in dire heat was the biggest aphrodisiac to him. Comparable were the little whimpers that the unsatisfied Machine couldn't stop himself from making, knowing Mandus kept one hand on the control panel for the express purpose of teasing him. Watching Mandus was outright torture. The promise of bodily fluids from his alpha, spilling into his machine guts, was more than the Machine could bear. He would willingly be collared and chained for eternity if only he could have daddy Mandus inside of him whenever he wanted.

That sense of control eventually pushed Mandus over the edge. Pleasure overtook him, and he let out a shuddery breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His cum ran between his fingers and landed in fat droplets on the metal floor beneath him. A moment to catch his breath, and then -- self-satisfied and smug, he took his hands off the panel to listen to the Machine start pleading for his own release. Being in heat for so long was impossible to endure, especially after Mandus had teased him so much.

Listening to the Machine whimper had never sounded better. The only reason Mandus didn't leave him that way was the thought of the telephone ringing at ungodly hours of the night, with the Machine's voice on the other end of the line begging him for relief. Mandus sent one final electric surge through the Machine's power core and watched him overload. He had lost his composure a long time ago, but being pushed over the edge of orgasm so abruptly made him moan so shamelessly that the memory of his voice in ecstasy would ring in Mandus' ears for a little too long afterward.

When Mandus emerged from the deep basements of the machine, he collapsed into bed almost immediately, but his fitful dreams wouldn't soon let him forget what he had done.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my magnum opus and i want alpha daddy mandus to breed me... dont forget to like comment and subscribe <3


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